


Cold Comfort

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-29
Updated: 2008-07-29
Packaged: 2019-01-20 18:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12438840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: PWP set during 2.07





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).

Gene had been standing at the window, watching darkness fall over his city, working his way steadily through a bottle of whisky. Sam could do little but sit and wait, silently watching, as every time he tried to speak, or move, there was a growl from the window and those green eyes fixed on him, penetrating the gloom with quiet menace. 

 

 

Barely an hour had passed and the bottle was empty. Gene placed it clumsily on the table, then knocked it skidding across the Formica surface as he reached for his cigarettes, before stumbling blearily across the room and slumping heavily onto the bed. 

 

 

Sam took the opportunity to stand up and stretch his aching body, crossing quickly to the kitchen to make coffee for his pissed and potentially volatile DCI. Suddenly, Gene was behind him in the small dark space, but Sam barely had time to register his admiration of how such a drunken Neanderthal could move so quickly and silently, before Gene leaned in.

 

 

“The way I see it Tyler” he whispered, voice low and dangerous “As yer seemingly too much of a Nancy to get me off this bloody murder charge, I’m going to have to adapt to prison life. And since I’m not gonna let some scum turn my arse into a windsock there’s really only one thing I can do.” 

 

 

 

Gene reached out and took a firm grip of Sam’s arse, kneading it in his big hands. Sam spun away, his back quickly encountering an obstacle in the tiny cluttered kitchen. 

 

 

“What…what… what the HELL do you think you’re doing?” roared Sam, frightened by the glazed look in Gene’s eyes, his lips curling into the parody of a smile. 

 

 

“Oh Sammy don’t play coy with me, I’ve had you up against enough walls, roughed you up enough times to know.” 

 

 

“Know what?”

 

 

Gene laughed mirthlessly. “What? You think I didn’t notice yer cock prodding me in the leg every time I put my hands on you? Or that glint of desire in yer eyes when I hurt you? And the harder I hit you, the less I pulled my punches, the more you liked it, you disgustin’ perve.” Without another word, Gene covered the space between them in one stride, his hand shooting out gripping tightly onto Sam’s denim clad erection, and squeezing. Sam couldn’t suppress the high pitched yelp that escaped his mouth, eliciting a grin from Gene and more relentless pressure on his aching cock. 

 

 

“If yer going to squeal like a bit of skirt Tyler, yer gonna to get treated like one.” Gene warned, slapping Sam resoundingly across the face with his open palm. Sam gasped and his hand flew to his face as he felt the rising heat of the guv’s handprint emblazoned across his cheek, the skin turning an obscene red. 

 

 

“Pretty” Gene murmured, raising his hands to Sam’s shirt collar and ripping it open in one powerful movement, his eye caught by Sam’s ever present Saint Christopher. Gene growled, tangling his fingers in the fine chain snapping it and hurling it carelessly across the room, before quickly and efficiently sinking his teeth into the paper thin hollow above Sam’s jutting collarbone, hands tearing the shirt off his back and onto the floor. He felt Sam stiffen beneath him as he bit down until blood, hot and heavy welled into his mouth, and spilled down his chin onto Sam’s lithe torso, red spots blooming into macabre flowers as they hit his white cotton vest. He slurped greedily, before pulling back to admire the teeth marks, smeared with blood, a defiant counterpoint to Sam’s pale throat.

 

 

Raising his head, he locked eyes with Sam, appreciating the haze of desire and pain he saw there. Stepping back he calmly appraised his DI, leaning into the sideboard, muscles tense, the fine sheen of sweat across his skin dampening his vest, adhering it to his chest, defining hidden contours. And lower, those jeans, so tight he must have to pour himself into them, bulging obscenely at the groin, fabric and zip distorted under the pressure. Knowing how painful flies can be when digging into a frustrated erection, Gene lamented that he would at some point have to remove the luscious trousers if he wanted to fuck the delicious arse beneath. He could see Tyler flinching as his eyes raked him, almost vibrating under Gene’s intense scrutiny and he realised just how damn needy this boy was, desperate for attention, for adoration, and that was good, because Gene loved to hear people beg. 

 

 

“Oi Gladys” Gene punctuated his words with a stinging backhanded slap across Sam’s face “you waiting for a gilt edged invitation to suck my cock?” Sam was on his knees in an instant, shaking hands struggling ineffectually at Gene’s belt, until with an exaggerated huff of annoyance, Gene kicked out, foot landing squarely in the centre of Sam’s narrow chest, propelling him backwards, head bouncing off the cupboard behind. Quickly and efficiently Gene undid his belt and trousers, letting them and his grotty underwear pool at his feet. He looked down at Sam; staring slack jawed at his impressive erection, and stepped up to him, bracing himself against the work surface. 

 

 

As soon as his cock was within reach of Sam he leant forward to take the tip in his mouth, tongue swirling across the head before plunging swiftly down the shaft. Gene hissed in pleasure. “What a good little cock sucker you are” he growled, before moving his hand to the back of Sam’s head, pushing him further onto his cock, until he could feel it grazing the back of Sam’s throat, feel him trying to suppress his gag reflex. Gene kept up the pressure on Sam’s head, rolling his hips forward again and again just to hear Sam choking as Gene fucked his mouth. The hot wetness of Sam was almost too much to take and Gene pulled out before he came down his throat, looking down at Sam kneeling at his feet, skin flushed and sweaty, lips covered in spit and precum, swollen and red, Gene’s handprints standing stark against his cheeks. His eyes were cast deliberately downwards, and Gene could hear his breath coming in ragged gasps.

 

 

“Do you want me to fuck you Sam?” he asked, almost conversationally. “Do you want your superior officer’s cock up your arse, like the poofter you are?” Sam stayed silent, eyes still on the floor, but he nodded. Gene casually lent down, his big hands encircling Sam’s delicate wrists and pulled his hands up, wrenching Sam painfully to his feet and shoving him backwards, smiling as he crashed awkwardly into the hard surface behind him, before grabbing his waist and spinning him around to face the wall and stepping up, rolling his hips and groin into Sam’s arse, breathing heavily into his ear 

 

 

“Your tongue failed you Dorothy? I said, do you want me to fuck you?” Gene punctuated his words with lazy circles of his crotch against Sam’s buttocks, feeling him tense in pleasure underneath him. 

 

 

“Oh...God…Yes…Gene…Please” Sam gasped as Gene dropped his hand and rubbed his palm roughly over Sam’s erection before swiftly flicking open the button and undoing the zip, tugging the tight jeans down over Sam’s hips to his knees, not able to help drawing in a breath at the sight of Sam’s perfect, pale buttocks. Sam instinctively widened his stance, bracing his hands in front of him, his hand hanging down submissively. He was a picture of debauched perfection, standing there just waiting for Gene to fuck him. Spitting on his hand, Gene drew his fingers into Sam’s arse crack and down to his anus, before gripping his cock to moisten it. Wanting this to hurt, but not split the boy in two, he took a tight hold of his erection, and started to slowly penetrate Sam, feeling him tense beneath him as he was stretched open. Keeping up the pressure, listening to the moans and hisses of Sam, Gene slid all the way in, stilling himself for a couple of seconds, letting himself become accustomed to the tight heat, before gripping onto Sam’s hips and fucking him hard. 

 

 

Sam was babbling almost incoherently, pleas and squeals issuing non-stop from his lips, and as he pushed himself deliberately backwards Gene moaned, long and low 

 

 

“Fuck, Dorothy” Gene panted “I would’ve done this long ago if I’d known what a filthy fucking gagging-for-it slut you were.” Gene grabbed Sam’s hair, and pulled his head backwards so he could see his face, eyes screwed shut, sweat running down his forehead, mouth contorted in pleasure. Sam’s eyes flew open and locked with Gene’s, glassy and dark with lust.

 

 

“Please Gene” he whispered “touch me, please; fuck I need to feel you touch me.” Gene immediately stilled, deep inside Sam, controlled his breathing and lent down to Sam’s ear.

 

 

“I’m sorry Nancy, perhaps I didn’t make myself clear” Gene drawled. “Tonight you’re my bit of skirt with your pretty pout, and long lashes. And as you well know, luscious little tarts who bend over to get fucked so readily don’t have cocks, do they?” Sam bit his lip in frustration, nodded in acceptance and started to move his own hand towards his throbbing erection. Gene grabbed it, crushing Sam’s delicate fingers in his grip and slammed his hand back onto the work surface, leaning his weight on it to hammer home his point. He saw the brief flash of rebellion skate across Sam’s eyes, swiftly replaced by resignation and acceptance, and seeing all control and power drain away from Sam almost tipped Gene over the edge. 

 

 

Gritting his teeth, he slid himself quickly out of Sam, fiercely reigning in the shreds of his self control, relinquishing his punishing grip on Sam’s hand and hair, watching him sag boneless against the counter, his head bowed in delicious submission. With a roar Gene took him again, thick cock thrusting straight into Sam’s slick heat up to the hilt, pinning Sam with his weight, hips thrusting randomly forwards, trying to bury himself deeper into the velvet tightness, feeling Sam shaking beneath him, skin slippery with sweat, a ceaseless litany of muttered obscenities and sharp intakes of breath issuing from his mouth as Gene pounded mercilessly into him, fingers digging into bony hips. Gene was close, his balls tightening into him, vision distorting as the feelings raced up his body. Leaning forward he bit down onto Sam’s shoulder, teeth slicing through salty skin, Sam going rigid beneath him, coming with a helpless wanton moan as Gene drew blood, forcing Gene over the brink into his own orgasm, and he erupted deep inside Sam, unconsciously biting harder, moans muffled in Sam’s flesh.

 

 

Withdrawing quickly from Sam, resisting the urge to place a gentle kiss on the angry bleeding bite mark on his shoulder, Gene quickly zipped himself up and stepped back, casting one last lingering glance at his DI, leaning completely spent, shuddering against the work surface, cum dripping down the backs of his legs.

 

 

“Clean yerself up Tyler, I’m getting some shut eye”


End file.
